Chapter 5: Fragile Things

Grindelverse

"Sirius raised you as his son," Hermione echoed slowly. This Harry, whatever he was, might have just been praising her for her cleverness, but shock was drawing a veil of stupidity over her temporarily afflicted (she hoped) ability to process anything. "But James… he's your real father, isn't he? Biologically?"

After all, this Harry was precisely as he was in her universe, fashionable glasses aside. Same black hair, same green eyes, same height and same wiry build; he was precisely the same person, and while Hermione may not have understood paradoxes, she certainly understood genetics. The boy before her was, without a doubt, the son of James and Lily Potter.

If, Hermione thought with a frown, Lily Potter had ever become Lily Potter at all.

"I'm not sure they ever planned to reveal the truth to me," Harry replied in answer, predicting her inevitable question before she'd thought to ask it, "but eventually the likeness was rather undeniable."

He gave a wry smile, or a tired smirk, and then turned a photograph in a frame on his desk for her benefit. There, as she'd never seen them before, was an adult James Potter and a clean, refined version of Sirius, both with their arms around a teenage boy who very obviously belonged to one man and not the other—despite the prominent Black family crest on his monogrammed ring.

"It was illegal between James and Lily, as you so rightfully pointed out," Harry said, catching where her gaze had landed, "and while the Potter name isn't exactly inconsequential, only the Black name is Sacred Twenty-Eight. James wasn't the first of his name to have a scandal on his hands, and he wanted more for his son. For me." He glanced away. "I don't think he ever intended for me to find out he'd given me up."

For the first time, Hermione caught a glimpse of the Harry she knew. He looked lost and a little lonely, but while it might have been her place to console him where she'd come from, here she watched Theo's fingers twitch towards him instead of hers, as if by instinct, to smooth out his insecurities from afar.

"I thought I was a Black until my seventeenth birthday," Harry said. "I never questioned it for a moment, even when the rumors first started to circulate. Sirius Black and James Potter, practically brothers, joined at the hip," he joked, in a tone of mimicry so precisely familiar Hermione might have sworn it came from Rita Skeeter. "One a known lothario, the other a secretive recluse. Could one have sired the other's child?"

His voice was bitter by then, and the moment his emotions seemed to be getting the better of him, Theo moved from his place in the room. He strode forward quickly, facing Harry, and turned his head, offering no more than a handful of unintelligible words in Harry's ear that seemed to soothe him immediately. With a firm nod, Harry straightened, and Hermione marveled quietly (not even Ron had been able to do that, she thought, and certainly not Ginny or herself) as Theo turned, impassive, and fixed her once again with his scrutinizing glance.

"My father and my godfather sat me down and told me I was a Potter," Harry continued, in control again, as if nothing had happened. "Thought it wasn't fair to me to make me wonder whether the gossips knew more than I did, I imagine, even though no one else could ever know, because we'd all be killed. They also revealed that my mother was quietly put down because of Grindelwald, and so James gave me to Sirius to raise." His expression hardened. "Right around then, I decided I was no longer particularly pleased with serving Grindelwald."

"And that's where I come in," Draco supplied, his voice startling Hermione. For a moment, caught up in her confusion, she'd forgotten he was there. "As I've mentioned, I don't particularly care for being under some elderly general's thumb. In truth, military service doesn't suit me," he added, mouth curled up with arrogant humor. "I have something of a problem with authority."

"I—" Hermione blinked, dizzied. "I don't understand. You…" She frowned at Draco. "You went looking for the Elder Wand to bring down Grindelwald?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"You already knew there were parallel universes?" she asked.

He made a noncommittal gesture. "It's sort of a longstanding theory. Not unlike time travel or eternal life."

"And then you simply happened upon," she realized, disbelieving, "a portkey to travel between… between worlds. Between realities."

"Yes," Draco said, briefly eyeing the cuticle of his thumb.

"And now, instead of an unbeatable wand, you simply have me," Hermione exhaled slowly, "and you want to use me as some kind of weapon against Grindelwald."

"Yes," confirmed Harry, Draco, and Theo in unison, and Hermione stared at them, balking.

"What is your bloody plan?!" she demanded, and the three of them, infuriatingly, all exchanged yet another secretive glance before returning their attention to her.

"The Deathly Hallows," Draco said simply.

"They're not real," Hermione snapped.

Theo lifted a brow at Draco, as if to say, Is she serious?

"She's something of a cynic," Draco supplied in answer.

"She's standing in a parallel universe," Theo said, disapproving.

"'She' is also standing right here!" Hermione pronounced hotly.

"The Hallows are real," Harry said, interrupting before anyone else could speak. "I have one of them. My godf- my father," he clarified, "gave me one of them on my seventeenth birthday. He said he'd been saving it for his—" He broke off momentarily. "For his son. For when I was of age."

"The cloak," Hermione guessed unhappily, and Draco smiled smugly at her.

"For something that's not real, you know quite a lot about them," he murmured to her, and she glared at him.

"We know Grindelwald has one," Harry continued. "The wand."

"Which leaves the stone," Theo said.

"If it exists," Hermione argued.

"Which it does," Theo said coolly.

"Which it doesn't," Hermione growled.

"Which it does," Theo replied.

"Say it does exist, hypothetically," Harry inserted, glancing at her. "Would you know where to find it?"

"Of course I don't know where to find an impossible resurrection stone," Hermione said impatiently, rubbing briefly at her temple. "I wouldn't begin to know where to start."

"You know other things, though," Draco reminded her. "The Chamber of Secrets. The Philosopher's Stone. And if I'm not mistaken, you even know a thing or two about horcruxes," he mused, and she sighed heavily.

"Those things have nothing to do with the Hallows, or Grindelwald," she retorted. "All of those things have to do with Voldemort, who isn't even Voldemort in this universe, so—"

"That's it," Harry said, glancing at Theo. "That's what we need."

"What?" Hermione asked.

Theo, meanwhile, grimaced, his brow furrowing as he looked at Harry. "Are you sure?"

"Wait," Draco said, stepping towards them. "You don't actually want to—"

"Well, I certainly don't want to," Harry said. "But given everything—"

"It is a bit difficult to deny the common thread," Theo murmured, toying with his chin, "but still, it's a longshot—"

"Oh, and defeating an evil overlord isn't?" Harry asked.

"An excellent point, Lord Black," Theo replied thoughtfully.

"Still. We can't trust him," Draco pointed out.

"Who?" Hermione demanded, but they weren't listening to her.

"Of course we can't," Theo scoffed. "What else is new? I barely trust either of you."

"Shut up," Harry said, nudging his glasses impatiently. "I'm trying to think."

"About what?" Hermione half-screeched.

"He might know something," Draco contributed in a low voice. "He might not believe it is what it is, though, you know. He might be like her. We don't have to call it by its name, do we?"

"Still, we chance clueing him in to what we're up to just by looking for it," Theo suggested. "Are we willing to risk it?"

"We have to risk everything," Harry said plainly. "This is only the tip of the iceberg."

"True, and you know I hate just the tip," Theo mused.

"I'm not going in," Draco muttered warningly, rounding on Harry, "if you don't have an escape route."

"Of course I have an escape route," Harry said, indignant. "I always do, don't I?"

"ESCAPE ROUTE," Hermione shouted, "FOR WHAT?!"

They all paused, turning over their shoulders to look at her.

Part of her wished she hadn't asked. She knew it was going to be bad well before Harry opened his mouth.

"Tom Riddle," Harry supplied without elaboration, and she felt her eyes widen.

"No," she said firmly. "No, no way—I'm not going anywhere near him—"

"Well, that's a nay vote in the minutes," Theo said. "Do the ayes have it?"

"You haven't voted," Draco pointed out.

"Well, I would vote no, only you both know perfectly well I have something of a self-destruct button I can't help but push," Theo sniffed. "Do I know it's a bad idea? Yes, of course, naturally. Do I plan to prevent myself from pursuing it? Absolutely not. I've never deprived myself my idiocy before, and I'm certainly not going to start now."

"You," Harry said to Draco, nodding at him. "What's your vote?"

To Hermione's surprise, Draco hesitated, which was not something she'd seen him do up to that point. "There's other ways," he said eventually. "Without the Hallows, I mean. We could defeat Grindelwald some other way."

"Yes, by devoting our lifetimes to an unwinnable war," Harry said drily. "It's certainly an option, albeit perhaps the least palatable."

"I'm just saying," Draco said, grimly toying with his mouth. "We have options."

"Yes, and I'm sure we could come up with something suitably clever," Harry said, "but no risk, no reward."

"Big risk," Theo added, "big reward."

Draco glanced at him, considering it, and then turned back to Harry.

"You want this," he determined, and then, "You really want this?"

Harry nodded. "I really fucking want this."

Draco tangled with his thoughts for another long moment, and for Hermione, who was helpless to do anything but watch, time seemed to suddenly slow. She might be pulled along with this scheme, barring any other option, and they (the spoiled, overprivileged boys in front of her who'd scarcely known loss at all) didn't seem to realize who or what they were dealing with. He's a murderer, she wanted to scream, he's a psychopath, he'll kill you all without batting an eye—

"Give me a moment," Draco said suddenly, and then, without warning, he took hold of her arm, guiding her out of the room and depositing her outside the door as he pulled it shut after him, facing her in the corridor.

She spun, glaring at him. "Don't manhandle me—"

"You don't want to do this," he noted, eyeing her. When she didn't answer, he continued, "I told you I needed you. So I need to know why not."

"I—" She stared at him. "What?"

"If there is a reason you don't want this—aside from insisting the Hallows don't exist," he warned, cutting her off before she could speak, "I need to know what it is. I won't make this decision without hearing it."

She swallowed, taken aback. "What?"

"Did you think you're some sort of toy? You're a fucking encyclopedia," Draco said. "You're a goddamn oracle. And they may not know what's out there," he added vehemently, pointing to the room containing Harry and Theo, "but you do, and if there's something I need to know about Tom Riddle before going after him, then I need to know it. Now. Before I let us get dragged into something that gets us all killed."

She stared at him. "You're serious?"

His mouth twitched. "Deadly serious."

She grimaced, and then took a breath. "Tom Riddle is dangerous. He's obsessed with living forever, and he'll destroy anyone to do it. He's murdered countless people. He's no less genocidal than Grindelwald. He's not some sort of better option—"

"He's not an option," Draco corrected. "We're not trying to trade in one megalomaniac for another, but I told you. He's a smuggler who specializes in impossible things, and what we want," he said, gesturing again to the study where Harry and Theo remained, "is one very, very impossible thing."

"I know," Hermione growled, "but that doesn't change what kind of person he is. In my universe, he's been trying to kill Harry since the day he was born. He killed James!" she said, waving a hand around the house they were currently standing in as Draco processed this information, still not looking nearly as concerned as he should have been.

"And if none of that means anything to you," she warned, softer, "then you should know he's in the process of killing the other you, too. Slowly. Painfully. Like he will do to many, many others, if they aren't lucky enough for him to murder them outright."

Draco looked at her for a long moment, taking her in, and then, for whatever reason, he carefully extended out his hand. She stared at it, bemused, and grudgingly offered him hers, letting him brush his thumb gently over her knuckles before grazing the skin down to the M on her wrist.

"We need him," he said quietly, and she moved to yank her hand free at the words, but he held her still. "We need him, but I'll give you a veto," he offered, and pulled her closer until her chest collided with his, her breath suspending somewhere in her throat. "I can't say no to Harry, Hermione. Not to him, and not to this. Maybe you can't understand this, but we've been through too much together. There's no saying no when he needs me."

She said nothing. There was, in fact, nothing in the world she understood better than that exact sentence.

"But," Draco continued, leaning forward to lower his forehead to hers, "I'll give you a veto. Anytime you want us to get out, call it. I'll drop everything, no questions asked. Just let me prove to you there's a smart way to do this," he murmured. "Let me try, let us try, and if everything is as bad as you fear it is, then call it. I promise I won't argue, I won't fight you on it, if you let me do this. If you help us do this."

He was still stroking the M on her wrist.

"I'll kill him for you," he whispered after a moment, and she shivered. "For what he's done to you. Better yet, when we're done—when we have what we need—I'll hold him while you cast the spell that kills him. He won't get away from his crimes, Hermione. Not here. Not there. Not anywhere."

His lips were perilously present. Shouldn't she have been afraid, or at least repulsed? He was whispering to her about murder the way he might have coaxed her into bed, as if the words I'll kill him for you were just as sweet as the ones last night: I'm going to kiss you again, and again, and again—

"I don't believe in the Hallows," she croaked, trying to draw moisture to her throat, "but—" A deep inhale. "If there's actually a stone that can resurrect the dead, I suppose I'd want to find it. For research purposes. For, um." She cleared her throat. "For science."

Draco leaned back slowly, smiling his infuriating smile down at her as he arched a pale brow.

"You know, if the Hallows are what they say they are, you might find your way back home," he posed impassively, and she grimaced.

"I have my doubts about that, as you know," she reminded him. "About that," she added, giving him a pointed once-over, "and other things."

He laughed, and it wasn't without a touch of mockery, but it wasn't without humor, either.

"You know, you'd better start believing in myths and legends, Hermione Granger," he advised, lifting her chin, "because you are one."

"You mean I'm in one," she corrected.

"I didn't fucking stutter," he said, and kissed her, and it was such a striking clash—an amalgamation of all the confusing pieces of him—she barely even gasped, hardly managed to process what was happening. She only shattered, melted, careened through time and space, landing somewhere breathless and dauntless and bold and unafraid—and was this an adventure? Yes, it was an adventure, a quest, and he was an expedition directly into danger, into the heart of darkness, into the wilds of the unknown. He tasted like the snap of a branch underfoot, like the creak of a solid door, like the glitter of a thousand golden keys. Under her fingertips, his breath filled his chest, and he moved and she moved and he kissed her and she kissed him and this was rapturous silence, and this was a primal scream, and this was the rip of circumstance, the tear of reality, and she imagined the rigid claw-marks on her past as she let it go and took a step with him, barreling with him past the brink of undeniable, unknowable disaster.

"A future veto," she summarized when they parted, "in exchange for a present yes. Is that the arrangement?"

"Say yes, Hermione Granger," he beckoned in answer, his hand carved around her cheek. "Say yes, and see if this world dares to deny you."

She bit her lip.

"Let's find Tom Riddle," she said, and his entire countenance slid into a look of unconquerable certainty.

"Harry," he called over his shoulder, shouting it through the closed door. "We're in."

The door opened and Harry stepped out, leaning against the door frame on one side as Theo joined him in the other.

"Great," Harry said flatly, as if he'd already expected as much. "Then settle your affairs, boys and girls, and make your excuses. This war," he began, and glanced at Theo, who smiled wickedly in return, "is officially begun."


Potterverse

"No," Theo said flatly, backing away. "No, no, absolutely fucking not—"

"Theo," Draco attempted through gritted teeth, taking a step towards him. "Listen to me, please, I—" He leaned closer even as Theo pulled away, dropping his voice. "You know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't completely necessary—"

"That," Theo hissed, jabbing a finger at the Floo, "is fucking Harry Potter, in my house, where I goddamn live, with my motherfucking father—who may be old, but who isn't blind or deaf! If they get caught here when he gets back, Draco, you absolute fucking lunatic—"

Behind them, Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione arching a brow, as Ron furrowed his.

"We just need a minute," Draco called to them over his shoulder, taking hold of Theo and dragging him around the corner from the living room. He ducked them both just out of sight, facing his back to their speculative audience, and hastily cast a silencing spell. "Listen to me, I need this, Theo, I fucking need this—"

"Funny," Theo said with a scowl, "the last thing I remember you saying to me was that you firmly didn't need me. Does that sound familiar, Draco? Something about being favored by the Dark Lord… Oh, right, and how you didn't need me anymore, because what was I? Ah yes," Theo mused, tapping his mouth. "Just a monumental fucking failure, and a liability, at that—"

"I was wrong," Draco said quickly, grimacing at revisiting their last (and only, and most terrible, and friendship-ending) fight. "You know I was wrong, Theo. I don't know why you have to rub it in like this—"

In response, Theo merely scowled.

"Look, you can yell at me later if you want to, just—look," Draco growled, and dug the Elder Wand out of his pocket, holding it up to his chest for Theo to inspect while obscuring it from the others' view. "This is the Dark Lord's wand. This is the Elder Wand. And that," he added at another whisper, gesturing over his shoulder to where the others stood in Theo's study, "isn't the real Hermione Granger. There's a parallel universe where Grindelwald won, and something happened there. Something happened, and—" He swallowed. "I need you to believe me. I need you. Please, Theo, I need you, because I have no one else. You know," he added, and if his voice was pleading, it was the least of his shame, "you know that I have no one else."

Theo's eyes narrowed.

"You expect me to believe you went to a parallel fucking universe," he parsed slowly, as Draco flinched, "got yourself a different fucking Granger, stole the fucking Dark Lord's wand, and then met up with fucking Potter and fucking Weasley and brought them back here, and I'm supposed to be able to fix this for you?"

"Not fix it for me," Draco said quickly. "Just—help me. I'm in deep, Theo." He glanced over his shoulder again, unnervingly catching Hermione's eye before turning back. "The Dark Lord's going to want me punished, want me dead. Potter, Weasley, I don't know if they'll help—if they can help. This—this Granger, she's—" He swallowed. "I don't know. I don't know. My head's fucking spinning, I'm desperate, I'm about one wrong move away from irrevocably fucked, and—"

"Swear it." Theo's voice was low and firm.

Draco blinked. "I sw-"

"No," Theo cut in, staring unnervingly at him. "I don't want just any swear." His grimace tightened, with something Draco feared was irreversible loathing still evident on the bow. "Swear it on Camelot."

"What?" Draco gaped at him. "That's—seriously?"

"Yep," Theo pronounced without pause, folding his arms over his chest. "Once upon a time I would have done anything for the person you used to be, Draco fucking Malfoy, so swear on what you were, or you won't get a damn thing from me."

To that, Draco dropped his chin, rubbing furiously at his temple.

"You know Lancelot fucks Arthur's wife," Draco muttered under his breath. "In retrospect, it's really not the portrait of chivalry we thought when we were kids."

"Yes," Theo replied, unconcerned. "I'm aware the storyline leaves some things to be desired. But that doesn't erase what it meant to us."

No, it didn't, and Theo wasn't wrong. There was a reason Theo Nott was the only person Draco could think to go to, even with the drudged up reminders of their toxic past. Because once upon a time, Theo swore his fealty to Draco, and Draco swore his to Theo, and if there was anything Draco believed, Theo believed it, too.

And if there was anything Draco needed, it was Theo's belief, right about now.

"I swear," Draco said slowly, "on Camelot. I swear on Excalibur, on Avalon, on Merlin's fucking ballsack, on every fucking story we both believed. That isn't Hermione Granger," he said, letting his gaze flick over his shoulder again, "and this is the Elder Wand, and now, without you, I am totally, undeniably, indisputably fucked."

Theo paused for a moment, gauging him, and then nodded.

"Okay," Theo said.

"Okay?" Draco echoed, disbelieving.

"Okay," Theo said, shrugging. "What do you need?"

It might have been too good to be true. Might have been, only Draco didn't bother wasting any more time. "A wand," he said quickly. "A few wands. Potter doesn't have one, and neither does Granger. Or Lovegood, or Ollivander."

"They can't all stay here," Theo warned, glancing at them. "Certainly not for long."

"We'll keep moving," Draco said.

"To?" Theo prompted doubtfully.

"I don't know," Draco exhaled. "This Granger," he said, gesturing for Theo to come closer so he could lower his voice even further, mistrusting even the silencing spell, "she doesn't know any magic."

Theo stiffened. "Fuck. Where's the real Granger?"

"Back in the—in the other universe. This one—" He grimaced. "This one sort of, um. Tricked me."

Theo gave him a look of unfiltered skepticism. "Tricked you?"

"Well, there was a portkey, and the real Granger was supposed to take it, only this one was—" He trailed off, looking down at his hands. "I thought she was the real one. Or maybe I wanted her to be. I don't know."

Theo, entirely unhelpfully, spared him a smirk. "You fucked this one, didn't you?"

Draco flinched. "I didn't, it wasn't—" He groaned. "Look, if Potter and Weasley find out—"

"Well, she tricked you," Theo pointed out, still entirely too amused. "If she fooled you, she can probably fool them too, can't she? I doubt these two are actively looking for reasons she might be a different version of herself from a parallel universe."

"Is there any way you two can hurry this up?" Harry called impatiently.

"No," Theo drawled, and turned his attention back to Draco. "Do I exist in the other universe?"

"I didn't meet you, but she did," Draco said. "You're, um—"

He was unsure how to say that the other version of Theo seemed to be in some sort of voraciously sexual relationship with the other version of Harry. It seemed so far-fetched, even among everything else, that he was nearly positive Hermione had simply made it up. Where's the other one? she'd asked Draco, before proceeding to vaguely describe some raven-haired deviant who apparently liked to fondle the other Potter's balls, and then, upon seeing Theo, she had merely said, Oh. Well, that's interesting.

Draco shook himself, shoving it from his mind.

"You're basically the same," Draco managed eventually, and Theo nodded, satisfied.

"Well, I take it you're trying to get the other Granger back, then?" Theo prompted.

"Uh," Draco said, blinking.

The thought had not occurred to him.

"You're joking," Theo said, instantly recognizing the blankness on his face. "Tell me you're joking. You can't just fucking leave her there!" he hissed, glaring pointedly at him. "Fucking hell, Draco, I know you're selfish, but fuck—"

"How am I supposed to get her back?" Draco demanded. "The portkey's destroyed, and I don't know about you, but I don't even know where to begin digging one up—"

Theo frowned. "What about the Hallows?"

"Shh," Draco warned. He doubted the others could hear him over the silencing charm, but still, it seemed an idea worth shushing. "What about them?"

"Well, the story's got that whole 'master of death' thing, doesn't it?" Theo said. "I bet if you have the Hallows, you can do pretty much whatever the fuck you want."

Ah yes, so we believe in fairytales now? Draco wanted to say, but figured he shouldn't push his luck. "Even if that were true, I only have the wand," he reminded Theo firmly. "Where am I supposed to go about finding the other two?"

Theo paused for a moment, considering it, and then, to Draco's surprise, he stepped out from their corner of secrecy, turning his attention to Harry.

"Where is it you plan to go next?" Theo asked him.

"None of your business," Harry replied.

"Fuck off," Theo said.

"Fuck you," Harry snapped.

Hermione lifted a brow at Draco, gesturing as if to say, Interesting.

"You're looking for something," Theo accused, "and I'm guessing it's not the Dark Lord, because you know damn well where to find him."

"I'm not telling you shit," Harry replied.

"Fine. I'll just keep guessing, then," Theo said, as Draco withered internally. "You're wanted and on the run, but you haven't left the country, which is what someone who isn't an idiot would do. Ergo, you're looking for something."

Harry scowled at him.

"Don't tell me what it is," Theo said, shrugging, "I don't care. But I'm looking for something of my own." He glanced pointedly at Draco, who frantically mouthed his opposition until Ron's attention landed on him with a questioning frown. "That's my condition for helping."

"Who says we need your help?" Ron demanded.

"You definitely need my help," Theo assured him, sparing him the most impassive of glances. "You need me, and you need Draco. If you're going to bring down the Dark Lord, you need both of us."

Draco figured it was a win, though at a truly unpleasant cost.

"Since when do you want You Know Who brought down?" Harry asked, glowering with suspicion. "I thought you were both fairly clear where you stood."

"Actually, you never fucking asked me," Theo informed him loftily, "and you know what they say about assumptions, Potter."

"Still. We're pretty clear on where Malfoy stands," Ron growled.

"Stood," Theo corrected, which Draco considered another win. "The point is, you need me, and I'm perfectly willing to help. I'll get you lot wands and get you out, if," he said emphatically, "you help me find something I need."

"Which is?" Harry asked.

Theo cocked his head, demurring. "What are you looking for again?"

Draco grimaced, and Harry shot Theo a look of unfiltered distaste.

"Fine," Harry muttered. "Just get us out of here, then."

Draco glanced at Hermione, who was smiling triumphantly at him. Clearly she was in the throes of a victory he resolutely didn't feel. Sure, there were little wins here and there—and he'd been right about Theo believing him, even if there was still bound to be tension moving forward—but the secrets, it seemed, were compiling from all sides. What was he supposed to do if getting the proper Hermione back to this universe meant giving this one up? Even if he wanted to lie to her (which he didn't) he may not have a choice.

And what did Theo really want with the Hallows? It wasn't exactly in his nature to care about Hermione Granger, or about anyone, for that matter. Aside from Draco, Theo had been a loner all his life, and doing the right thing for the sake of morality alone was really more the real Granger's speed than either of theirs.

In short, the entire thing was set to collapse at any moment.

"This is a lovely house," mused a wide-eyed Luna Lovegood. Her gaze was fixed on a painting called The Torments of the Betrayer, which was a gruesomely violent narrative of a man being repeatedly impaled.

"Thanks," Theo said.

Draco sighed.

"Right," Theo agreed, glancing at him. "Well, now that that's sorted, let's all get to work."


a/n: In case you didn't catch it, these plots are definitely divergent, but not totally separate. In the words of carmenjanebeach on Tumblr, what a time to be alive. Dedicated to susiequeen300, who just wrote a wonderful review of Masters of Death. Girl, you slay.